


You Tilted My Hand

by taggiecb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Harry, Canada, Co-workers, Hate to Love, Insecurity, M/M, Miscommunication, Newspapers, No Smut, POV Harry, Photographer Harry, Small Towns, Writer Louis, boss Niall, inspired by Anne of Green Gables, lirry friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb
Summary: Harry Styles arrives in Avonlea, Prince Edward Island for his first day of a coveted and prestigious summer internship at the Avonlea Chronicle. He's quick to realise that he's out of place in the little band of journalists as he's an art major and they didn't choose Harry to be part of the team!Thankfully his new boss, Niall, wants to give him a chance. Unfortunately that will mean trying to keep up not only with the stress of the job, but PEI's golden boy Louis Tomlinson, who has a perpetual smile on his lips, and mischief in his eyes.





	You Tilted My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for checking this out! Thank you A for loving me through this and C for betaing my mess haha. Thanks a lot!

 

 

  


“Alright everyone!”

Harry hears a voice call out from the opposite side of the tiny space that he’s currently huddled into the corner of. It’s clear and jovial but commands attention. Harry also notices that it has just the tiniest lilt that suggests that he’s from somewhere else. Newfoundland maybe, or even Ireland if it was a long time ago.

“Welcome to the Avonlea Chronicle, and for a lot of you, welcome to Prince Edward Island!”

The man isn’t exactly speaking to a stadium. Aside from Harry, and the person in charge, who he had gathered from his research is Niall Horan, there are only three other people in the room. Everyone looks at each other kind of awkwardly, though there is slight murmur of excitement between the strangers.

“Now, my name is Niall. I am the editor and owner of the Avonlea Chronicle, and have been for a few years. As all of you know, you’re here because you’ve been selected as the most qualified to fill a highly coveted internship. You, my young men, will be the staff of the Avonlea Chronicle for the remainder of your stay. And I expect a great paper.”

Harry’s stomach twists with nerves and excitement. They are the staff. They, these...kids, as he’s still wont to refer to himself, are going to be in charge of delivering actual news and information to an entire town. The thought is daunting.

“We’ll do a round of introductions, so I can learn your names and you all can start to get to know one another. ” Niall looks at everyone with the assumption that they are all completely uninterested in playing his games. From the looks on the faces that Harry sees, maybe Niall’s right. “Ok, Liam Payne.” He looks up from his clipboard, thick rimmed glasses perch precariously on his nose.

“Present.” Liam Payne takes a step forward and raises his hand as if he was still in grade school.

A smirk lifts just slightly on Niall’s face, but he clears his throat and addresses the man in front of him. “And what can you tell me about yourself, Liam?”

“Hello, my name is Liam Payne,” Liam says, essentially repeating himself. “My family is originally from Great Britain but we moved to Quebec when I was eight. I attend Ryerson University in Ontario, top of my class and I am here to learn, sir.” Harry waits for Liam to salute, or bow. He does neither, just smiles brightly and takes a slight step back again, indicating that he’s done with his little speech.

“Alright, thank you Liam,” Niall says, clearly trying to hide a laugh. “Zayn Malik?”

A slight, dark haired boy that is standing slightly behind Liam puts a finger up ever so slightly and clears his throat. “That’s me,” he mumbles. “Toronto film school, creative writing.”

“And where are you from?” Niall asks brightly, clearly ignoring Zayn’s discomfort.

“British Columbia.” Zayn almost scowls at Niall, but Niall just continues his thousand watt smile.

Harry doesn’t want to stereotype, but Zayn looks like he’s from BC. Hipster, trendy, probably smokes a lot of weed. He’s wearing a leather jacket that probably costs more than the building they’re standing in. Harry wants to take a picture of him.

“Our third and final journalist isn’t here yet, but I’ve talked to him just this morning and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me sharing a little about him.” Niall looks smug as though he’s about to reveal that the person missing is Prince William or something.

Are there famous people in the journalism world? Harry wouldn’t know. He doesn’t even know how he made it this far. He’s studying for his art degree. Of course he can take photographs, but this is so far out of his range of comfort. He only applied because it was a three month long paid internship, and not too far from Halifax, where he’s been living and going to school for the past few years. But he was accepted. He pinches his elbow again, just to see if he’s actually truly awake. He realises that Niall’s talking again and he’s missed half of it.

“...Tomlinson, and he’s an Island native, lives in Markdale, just in the next town over. He’s actually living at home for the summer and will be travelling into town so I told him that he could enjoy the day with his siblings. He just got in from British Columbia where he’s going to University, so anyone who hasn’t met him yet will get a chance bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be sure to fill him in..” The man next to Harry smirks at Niall, and Niall rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. But it leads me to the next two interns for everyone to get to know. Nick, why don’t you tell a little about yourself.” If Harry didn’t know any better he would think that Niall wasn’t exactly thrilled about giving this man, Nick, the floor.

Nick sidles up to Niall and stands beside him as if he belongs there and crosses his arms, giving the rest of them a lazy stare. “My name is Nicholas Grimshaw. My family has lived in this village for five generations. My great-great-randfather took this paper over from Mr. Tyler in 1916 and I intend to someday take it over myself. I’m currently top ten in my class at Raymen University in Toronto, Ontario, and I expect any news article that is written be up to my standards.” He glares at the room, eyes landing on Harry in particular for a beat too long for Harry’s liking. Fine by him, he’s not writing any articles anyway.

“Thank you Nick.” Niall moves away from Nick and looks purposefully at his clipboard before he smiles at Harry. “And finally we have Edward Styne.”

Harry freezes, but Niall is looking right at him. He looks around the room at three other pairs of eyes staring at him as well. He wonders if there’s a chance that there’s someone standing directly behind him that they are referring to. There isn’t.

“Edward Styne?” Niall asks this time, probably assuming that Harry...or Edward, rather, is shy. Harry shakes his head as slightly as he can manage. Niall catches on immediately. “You’re not Edward?”

Niall doesn’t sound upset or angry, just looks down at his clipboard again. “Harry Styles,”  Harry manages to say, hating the way his voice sounds so small and unsure.

“You did apply for this internship at least?” Niall asks, now flipping through more papers in his hands.

“Yes sir, I did.”

Niall perks up at this. “Oh. Well, tell us about yourself.”

Harry feels absolutely terrified. He’s not what they wanted. They were looking for a photographer and they’re getting him instead. He mentally calculates how long it would take him to get back to Halifax on the small lump of cash that he brought with him. He will have to call his mother. “I’m, ah, Harry Styles, I’m from Glace Bay Nova Scotia but I’ve been living in Halifax for the past three years getting my Master in Fine Arts.”

He looks at Niall and chews on his bottom lip to keep from rambling. They didn't want him. They didn’t want _him._ He feels so humiliated standing here being judged by his peers. Or not even his peers he discovers. He doesn’t belong here at all.

“Well,” Niall continues in his cheerful tone as if Harry’s world isn’t crumbling down all around him. “You aren’t who we initially considered, but you’re here now. Might as well show us what you’ve got!”

“Seriously?” Harry says at the precise time that Nick also says it, Harry a bit more elated, Nick a bit more incredulous.

“I promise that I won’t let you down.” Harry comes towards Niall and before he can stop himself, brings him into a full body hug. “You have made me the happiest person in the entire world.” Niall just laughs and pats Harry’s back.

“What is he going to do,” Nick sneers at Harry from behind Niall’s back, “watercolour the pictures?”

“Maybe he will. Wouldn’t hurt to bring a little fine art into our old Avonlea would it?” Niall beams at him. Harry suspects it’s less at the prospect of Harry’s skill with watercolour (he does have the skills though) and more the chance to take a jab at the incessant Nick Grimshaw. Harry is fine either way.

 

Niall dismisses everyone, and they all awkwardly shuffle out of the tiny building and onto the sidewalk. Everyone is just kind of looking at each other but it’s Liam who breaks the silence and comes to Harry first. “Fine arts, that sounds so mysterious,” he says to Harry, taking his hand and shaking it jovially.

“It leaves great scope for the imagination,” Harry says, wanting to say more, so much more. But has learned, thank heavens, when to hold his tongue.

Liam chuckles softly and nods, “I don’t have a lot of that. I’m more of a facts man. I’d love to see some of your art, though.”

“Would you?” Harry practically feels light beaming from his soul. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course!” Liam laughs and puts his hand on Harry’s elbow. “I want to hear all about you. Zayn does too!”

Harry looks towards Zayn, who is once again standing slightly behind Liam. Harry isn’t so sure about Zayn actually wanting to see or know anything about Harry, but he smiles at him anyway. “I’m staying at a place called Green Gables boarding house. I have some works there,” he offers to both of them.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but not unkindly, like Nick had. “We’re all staying at Green Gables,” he says in his muffled voice.

“Not all,” Liam scolds, then starts steering Harry in the direction of his temporary home. “Just the three of us this year.”

“We’ll be living in the same house all summer?” Harry is practically bursting with questions. He has to bite his bottom lip to keep them all in. “Do you think we’ll become the best of friends?”

Zayn snorts behind them, still following closely, but Liam just shrugs. “Maybe we will. I’d like that.”

 

Harry practically bounces on his small single bed. He and Liam have been spending the entire evening sharing stories of their childhood. Liam is very fact based, Harry notices, but there is a kindness in his words that keeps Harry from trying to imagine the ways that his reminiscence could be more interesting. He just tucks his chin on his folded hands and lets Liam talk.

Turns out the more he allows Liam a voice the more Liam uses it. And the more Liam speaks, the more he smiles.

“Don’t you just love reliving the past where the harsh reality has faded into a soft romantic glow?” Harry sighs as he watches the very last of the summer light fade into the horizon.

“What even are you going on about?” Zayn asks. He has tucked himself into the deep windowsill in the corner of the room, and Harry had almost forgotten that he was there.

“Nothing ever seems as bad when remembering the past as it felt when it happened.” Harry explains, trying his best to be friendly.

“You’re a strange boy.” Zayn shakes his head and pulls out his phone. “So what’s up with this Louis guy? Niall was acting like he was the second coming of Christ or something.” Zayn’s mouth pierces in concentration at the lit up screen. “I wonder what he looks like?”

“What he looks like?” Liam retorts incredulously. “What does his looks have to do with anything?” Harry is mildly surprised to see that Liam is truly confused about Zayn’s comment.

“Just wondering if he’s cute,” Zayn grumbles, eyes fixed on the screen for a moment before they light up and he smiles an actual smile. “Found him!”

“How do you know?” Harry resists the urge to snap the phone out of Zayn’s hands and have a look for himself.

“He’s actually got his bio in his bio and not some bullshit about how you’re glad to live in a world where there are Octobers.” Zayn rolls his eyes, but he’s still smirking.

“Hey, I _am_ grateful for that. At least it isn’t just a backpack emoji. What even is that?” He shakes his head and gives Liam a look, but Liam just smiles and shrugs.

“It symbolises me travelling across the country and how adventurous I am.” Zayn rolls his eyes again. His favourite pastime, Harry thinks. “If you’re not a little bit mysterious then boys aren’t going to like you.”

“I don’t need boys to like me, I need to focus on my school and now my job.” Harry hides behind the screen of his own phone, typing Louis Tomlinson into the search bar as discreetly as possible. It’s a quick search. Zayn has already followed him. Harry had followed Zayn and Liam almost as soon as Niall had set them free for the day.

“He already followed back!” Zayn practically squeals. It’s the most life that Harry had seen from him since they met. “Man, he’s cute.”

Harry scrolls Louis’ instagram and finds a selfie. Shit. He’s not cute, he’s gorgeous.

“Oh my God, look at the babies!” Zayn is cooing at something on his own screen and Harry keeps looking. Gorgeous hot boy with wispy hair and a bright smile, arms wrapped around two little toddlers, a blonde and a bright smiling ginger with wild curls. Harry’s heart almost swells out of his chest.

“It’s probably professional to follow him. We’ll be working together over the summer.” Harry’s thumb hovers over the follow button. Liam nods encouragingly, while Zayn snorts.

“If you’re sure you want him to see that brillow pad on top of your head,” he tsks loudly as Harry gets a notification that Zayn had liked an old picture from about five years ago. He was fifteen and the curls on his head were so tight that Harry actually owned a hair pick.

“It’s the humidity.” Harry’s hands protect his head, he can already feel the edges start to turn up with the heat of the early summer, despite the disgusting amount of product that he had used that morning to keep it tame for their meeting.

“Whatever you say dude.” Zayn laughs as he likes another of Harry’s old school pictures. Maybe it’s time to do some weeding out. Maybe he should make an aesthetic Insta, it would fit his brand better anyway.

When they all fall into their own little worlds on the other side of their phone screens, Harry gets another ping on his notifications. He’s ready to tell Zayn to fuck off, except that when he looks to see what embarrassing pic Zayn’s found this time, he sees that Louis has followed him back. He can’t help but smile at the face of the beautiful boy in the profile picture when there’s another notice. A DM.

_Hey, Niall told me all about you guys, see you tomorrow!_

Harry is never going to be able to sleep tonight.

 

They’re huddled into the small space of the newspaper office once again the next morning. The sun is bright in the sky, but the early June air is still crisp this time of day. Harry links his arm into Liam’s to distract himself from his first day jitters. Liam pats his hand and bumps Zayn’s shoulder who stands on the other side of him. Nick leans against the only open wall space in the room, decidedly ignoring everyone else.

“This is going to be such an adventure Liam, I can feel it.” Harry sighs. The smell of the paper and ink are starting to go to his head.

“This is a job, a career for some of us. Please take it more seriously,” Nick drawls from his corner.

Liam rolls his eyes. “If you wanted to run an entire newspaper, Nicholas Grimshaw, why did you go into photography?” Harry can tell that it’s meant to be a rhetorical question, none of them are actually interested in any of Nick’s reasoning.

“At least I go to a real school, not some finger painting for adults bullsh—”

“Gentlemen!” Niall’s voice cuts through the buzz of the room. He gives a smile to Harry and Liam and Zayn, and a pointed look towards Nick who just glares at the wall. “Welcome to your first day as journalists!” He picks up a small stack of newspapers and passes them out. “This is today’s edition of the Avonlea Chronicle and the last paper of the spring season. This paper is in your hands now. I want you to spend a few hours looking at it, and if you wish, a few back copies from earlier in the year. But don’t spend too much time. I want a paper from _you,_ not my staff. And I want it in six days. We publish weekly and I expect great things.”

His voice is stern but his eyes gleam with secrets and mischief. Harry would laugh if he wasn’t so nervous.

“I expect at least one lead from each of my writers. Photographers, be ready when your writers are. I have a deadline…” He looks every single one of them in the eye. “And I have never missed my deadlines.”

Harry stares down at the stark black print of the newspaper that Niall gave him. An elderly man in coveralls and a flat cap is surrounded by four calves, a headline boasting newborn quadruplets. The photo quality is good, there’s no denying that, but the content leaves something to be desired. It’s just so...plain. “Where’s the romance? Where’s the imagination?” he asks no one in particular.

“It’s just some cows, curly,” an unfamiliar voice says beside him.

He snaps his head up and sees a face that no camera could do justice. The face on his phone last night that kept him from sleeping for hours last night. His face is just a glow of sunshine and summer. His eyes are the colour of the morning sky outside. His hair is the colour of the dark river water, glistening browns and golds through the light. And his lips, that are turned up into what looks like a permanent smirk, are as pink as the wild roses that litter the sides of the dirt road leading to the boarding house.

Those lips called him _curly._ He can feel the dark red fury in his gut stain his cheeks. Curly. Harry’s worst nightmare is coming true right before his eyes. Louis had seen the old pictures and decided that the first thing he could possibly say to Harry is to mock him for his rebellious follicles when Louis clearly has never had a bad hair day in his life.

Well Harry doesn’t have to take this, not today. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and almost in a blind rage, pulls up Louis’ profile on Instagram. Louis peers at the screen, lazy smirk still firmly in place, until Harry pushes the block button, feeling both triumphant and angry. Louis’ face goes from confused to what Harry thinks might be concern. Not that he cares.

“Did you just...block me?” Louis asks him, face blank with disbelief and horror. Harry hopes he chokes on his tongue. He drags his mind quickly for something equally mean and cold to retort but comes up with nothing. Nothing! The man is gorgeous!

“You’re not even that tall!” he finally settles on, which awards him a quick flick of an eyebrow raise from Louis. Harry can also see just a tiny hint of definiace in his eye. He’s really tempted to just stand there for the rest of the day and see what other beautiful ways that Louis can contort his flawless features, but he has a paper to read. He doesn’t have time for this. “Well, I’m off to shoot the cover for next week’s paper. See you next week,” he says to Louis only. He scans the room. He would have known that he was saying it to Louis only if he’d taken more notice of his surroundings and noticed that everyone else had left after his outburst. “Goodbye, Louis Tomlinson.” He turns on a heel and nearly walks straight into the closed door before he catches himself and sends up a prayer of thanks to whoever didn’t allow him to embarrass himself further.

 

He does not, in fact, shoot the next cover for next week’s paper. Instead, he heads towards the boarding house, fulling intending to throw himself face down in his bed and remain that way for the foreseeable future. But just as he’s about to climb up the small wooden step that leads into the kitchen, he spots something out of the corner of his eye. It’s a path, almost hidden by trees and long grass. But Harry notices that the center is worn down and browning, so someone must use it. His curiosity gets the best of him. If he’s going to wallow in his own misery, it might as well be somewhere interesting.

The path itself is something out of a fairy tale. The sun filtering through the leaves causes shadows to dance at Harry’s feet. He tries to look past the horizon to see fields and hints of coast line at every turn, until suddenly he finds himself on the edge of a clearing. There’s green everywhere he sees, aside from the sharp light blue of the sky. It feels as though he has stepped into another realm. One built just for him. He slows down his pace, trying to take in every detail of the little secret garden.

He immediately wishes that he had his art supplies with him because this place is full of inspiration. He settles for the phone in his back pocket. He takes a few shots and then finds a dry place to sit down, a small boulder on the other side of the clearing with a clear view through the trees of a giant pond.

He sits and stares at it for a while. He loves it here. Truly and genuinely. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend summer. He knows of course that he hasn’t even begun. He could possibly hate it by the end of the week, but he doesn’t think he will. In fact, he decides that he will love everything about Avonlea, and The Chronicle and all of the new people he has met, and he believes that if he tries hard enough he can like anything he wants.

“Hey,” a person says behind him, so close that Harry can practically feel his breath. He instantly feels himself prickle. Maybe he can’t make himself like everything.

“Hello,” he replies to Louis without turning from the beautiful view of the pond. Louis doesn’t deserve facetime with Harry.

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry about earlier.” Louis pauses, but Harry continues to stare at the water. “I’m not entirely sure what I did to upset you, but I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Harry scoffs loudly and covers his mouth so no other offending noises can escape. “It’s fine, everything’s fine,” he manages to squeeze out before any unnecessary insults spill out. He has always had a habit of speaking first and regretting it later.

Louis sits on the boulder next to him. His boulder, the nerve. Apparently Louis’ downfall is to not know where he’s wanted. “You found my secret hiding spot.”

“Is it?” Harry feels a mix of indignation and guilt. He’s tempted to just get up and leave, but that would be giving in, and that’s not what Harry is about.

“Yup, when we were kids the boarding house belonged to my aunt Anne. She lived there all alone, and my parents would send my sisters and I to stay with her for the summer. The house is pretty large, but I have four sisters. Well, I did back then. I have five now, and a brother.” Louis chuckles to himself. “The youngest babies were just born last spring. They’re spoiled rotten, let me tell you.”

Harry is struck suddenly with an overwhelming sense of endearment that is not only heart warming but highly disconcerting. . Louis has a whole brood at home and he talks about them like they’re his pride and joy. Dammit. He can’t deal with this. “Are you here to give me your life story?” Harry finally looks at Louis, giving him his best glare.

“Just chatting.” Louis shrugs with his never ending smile. Seriously, he never stops smiling. What is wrong with him? “I already know Nick and Niall. I met Liam and Zayn about an hour ago. That just leaves us.”

Harry could be mistaken, but he’s pretty sure that Louis moves closer on the rock, and oh no. That’s not happening. Not with the guy who insulted his hair.

A flair of red licks up his belly and chest once again at the memory and his legs pull him to his feet before he even knows what’s happening. “That’s not necessary. You obviously have no intention of respecting me as a person or a professional, so I think it’s best if we stay as far away from one another as we can. Good day.”

He briskly walks in the direction that he’s hoping is the boarding house, replaying what he just said. Who says good day?

 

“Harry, I want you working with Louis today.” Niall’s booming voice rattles Harry’s ear drums. He pulls his phone away from his ear for a moment before the realisation of his words settle in.

“What? Why?” Harry’s voice pitches to an unpleasant squawk and he clears his throat loudly. “Why?” he repeats.

“He needs a photographer,” Niall clips in his ever cheerful tone. “He’s here at The Chronicle, so meet us and you can get going on your assignment.”

“Was this his idea? Did he put you up to this?” Harry asks, indignance colouring his cheeks. “Because I refuse to be a pawn in this little game of his.”

Harry can swear that he can hear Niall chuckling, but the phone is muffled. “No Harry, I just wanted to give the people that aren’t from around here a chance to work with the people who are more familiar with the area. We don’t often have locals in our internship, and I was hoping to take advantage of it. I asked Louis, just like I asked Nick to work with Zayn and Liam. They are doing a feature together today.”

Harry knows when he’s being talked down to, but it doesn’t make him feel any better to know that Niall is just trying to do him a favour. “Is this an order?”

“It’s not a request,” Niall replies, and Harry can hear him smiling.

Harry grits his teeth and breathes deeply through his nose a few times. “Fine, I’ll be there in five.”

 

Louis is waiting for him on the steps of the office. He smiles brightly despite their less than pleasant encounter the day before. Well, Harry’s less than pleasant behaviour, he should say.

“You ready?” Louis asks, and starts walking before Harry even has a chance to greet him.

“Do I have a choice?” Harry grumbles, apparently unable to keep his resentment at bay.

“Nope!” Louis grins at him and they walk down the sleepy street to God knows where.

“You’re not planning on taking me to the woods and murdering me, are you?” Harry really wouldn’t put it past him.

“Not this time,” Louis sing songs, almost as if he expected the question.

“Well, lead the way then.” Harry manages to complete the sentence without the morose feel of someone having just killed his best friend. He doesn’t know if he likes that or not.

 

Louis leads Harry to a silver mazda and Harry is struck with the thought that he assumed they would walk. He isn’t quite sure what made him think they would. The town itself is small, but there is a lot to explore in the surrounding areas. Harry sits silently in the front seat and tries to ignore Louis’ cheerful humming. It’s a beautiful town really. Everything is green with trees and gardens. Even the road is quaint with it’s chip seal and stone sidewalks. Harry could point his camera just about anywhere and take a beautiful, postcard-worthy photograph.

But they eventually slow to a house on the end of a quiet street. Harry looks up at it’s wraparound porch and colourful shutters, but doesn’t really see anything extraordinary about it. He looks at Louis, who is looking back at him proudly.

“I didn’t ask you what your story is,” Harry says, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. Despite his feelings, he needs to remember to at least be professional.

Louis seems delighted though, and settles into his seat, smiling brightly at the house. “This is the oldest house in Avonlea,” he explains, as though that in itself is newsworthy. Harry looks closely again. Yes, he can see the remnants of old construction. He can tell the way the house has been rearranged and reconformed over the years as most houses are. He nods politely, not really seeing the story. Of course he isn’t a story teller though, not through words anyway. “It will be two hundred years old at the end of next month.”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” Harry looks at the excitement dancing in Louis’ eyes this time, instead of at the house.

“I hope it’s more than that. The house is old and in disrepair, but I’m going to write a series of articles campaigning to have it restored as a historical site. Hopefully we can have it protected and turned into a museum or gallery or something that could benefit the community.” Louis opens the car door and Harry follows behind, a bit speechless.

“That’s amazing,” he says, feeling a little dumb, not fully able to find words for how he’s feeling.

“It kind of slipped through everyone’s fingers I think, but I did my research. It’s been a private residence for most of its existence, but it acted at one time as a foundling home run by…” He takes a look at his phone, squinting against the sun. “Felicity and Gus Pike, in the early to mid nineteen hundreds. I’m hoping that will give it enough significance for people to want to take notice. It wasn’t, of course, the first house in town. That was owned by the Wards. But it’s been gone a long time now.”

Louis rambles on and Harry, busy trying to keep up with the information that Louis is throwing at him, doesn’t immediately notice that Louis is opening the front door of the house.

“Um, shouldn’t you knock first?”

Louis laughs and shakes his head, entering further into the foyer. “The house is empty, it’s owned by the village now. I got permission from the council to do what I want as long as I don’t hurt anything.”

Harry looks around in the dusty and starkly empty house. He wonders what kind of damage that they think Louis could possibly do. “And you need...pictures of this?” He looks at Louis dubiously. The house is dimly lit. The outlets and light switches look like they haven’t been changed since the late seventies. He doesn’t even think there’s power in the house.

Louis just shrugs with that ever present smile. “I was hoping that you could put an artist's touch on it. Give it a look of…” He pauses, looking like he’s rolling words around in his head. “Desolate beauty.”

“Big words,” Harry says.

“Is that a no?” Louis asks, but laughs.

“No, definitely not. I’m...impressed.” It almost pains him to say it out loud. Louis is so not the guy who made fun of him a couple of days ago. He remembers his hair and touches it self-consciously. It’s a relatively dry day today, and it’s for the most part behaving.

Almost as if Louis could read his mind, Louis asks into the silence of the house, “Why don’t you like me?”

Harry opens his mouth and closes it again. Does he dislike Louis? He wants to. He has a zero tolerance bully policy. But this Louis is not what he decided Louis was. Now Harry’s just confused. “As if you don’t know,” Harry decides to say, and turns away so he can’t see Louis’ face and Louis can’t see his.

“Well I don’t, actually, but hopefully I can change your mind.” Louis brushes his arm as he walks past Harry, back out the front door again. Harry knows it was intentional. He knows that there was enough room. And he knows that the simple touch is cementing his feet to the floor and his tongue to the roof of his mouth. This won’t do at all. Louis Tomlinson needs to get out of his head.

 

Harry does end up taking a few pictures of the house. Nothing amazing, he doesn’t think, but he takes Louis’ words into consideration and tries to look at the house like it might be a diamond in the rough. Louis spends most of his time on his phone. Which, yeah, of course Louis can’t sit down and write an article in the middle of an abandoned house, but the way he’s casually laughing into his mobile as he’s perched on one of the porch steps while Harry is squatting in the least flattering angle trying to get a view of the outside of the house through the leaves of a lilac bush,  kind of gives Harry the sense that he’s towing the line a little.

Harry pauses, watching Louis for a bit. The early June sun is beaming down on them with full force now. Harry feels a bit sweaty, but Louis looks sun-kissed and cooled by the small breeze. His eyes are practically shut by the wide smile that’s pasted on his face. The earthy blue t-shirt that falls on his shoulders like a gauze makes his eyes look more blue than Harry thought was even possible.

Without giving his hands permission, they rise and take a picture of him. It causes Louis to startle, but not much. He just looks over towards Harry and smiles again.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Louis asks as if they were in the middle of a conversation and Harry was creepily stalking him from the bushes.

“I think so, yeah,” Harry replies. He hasn’t eaten yet, but he feels like he couldn’t eat with those eyes on him at all.

“I know an awesome place.” Louis tilts his head and heads towards the car,and their work commitments are quickly forgotten.

  


Harry stands on the small wooden porch of Niall’s home situated in the hollow of a stand of trees just outside of town. Harry didn’t think that houses could be made as tiny and quaint as this one. There are flowers growing in every nook and cranny. A small metal plaque by the door says _Rose Cottage est. 1859_. Another old treasure, hidden behind the lush green of the island.

Niall has invited all of his summer staff to dinner to discuss, and hopefully celebrate, their first successful print. Harry taps gently on the door and sees a shadow move past the window nearest him. He smiles to greet Niall, but is jarred, smile still frozen in place when it’s actually Louis who opens the door.

“Hey Harry,” Louis greets him and moves back to let him into the little foyer. Harry takes his shoes off at the door and Louis passes him the thin newspaper. Their paper. Harry flips it over anxiously and once again doesn’t know what to do with his face. The cover headline reads in bold black letters.

ROYAL WEDDING

A distant relative of the queen of England, Princess Alexandria of Leininge, returns to her father’s Canadian roots to marry at the prestigious White Sands Hotel.

 

There’s a picture of the happy couple leaving the chapel that sits on the hotel grounds, with a small but elegant congregation looking on happily. It’s a wonderful front page headline, but it’s not Louis’ house story. He looks up and Louis is smiling, but shrugs.

“Next time eh?” he says, and Harry would almost think that Louis is feeling bad for him. All he did was take a few pictures.

Dinner’s a cozy affair with everyone having already gotten to know each other. The conversation flows easily, and Harry only receives a short few open glares from Nick. Honestly, Harry would take the glares over the smug looks of satisfaction every time Louis gives Nick attention. Not that it’s a competition. Harry certainly doesn’t look that way when Louis talks to him.

“I’m really very happy with your first publication.” Niall raises his glass of lemonade to the table. “A solid beginning, very solid.”

“You’re welcome.” Nick smiles wryly at Niall who pointedly ignores him in favour of addressing Liam and Zayn.“Covering that wedding was nothing short of genius. I didn’t think we’d even be able to get close to that place.”

“Zayn can be very charming.” Liam flushes a little at his own words, but Zayn seems to blossom under the attention.

“I think the groom looked at me more during the ceremony than he looked at the bride.” Zayn flips his wrist and giggles.

Niall stifles a laugh as Nick audibly groans. Harry finds himself smoothing out the little cowlick at his temple. He’ll never charm his way into anything, not with his face anyway. Which is fine, he guesses.

“And Louis, I’m really impressed with this initiative you’re taking with the old Lloyd house. I can’t wait to see where you take it,” Niall offers.

“Thanks Ni.” Louis sits up a little straighter, looking well chuffed. “I’m hoping to see it through to the end.”

“It’s a risk,” Niall warns, and Harry feels a mysterious knot form in his stomach. Louis taking a risk isn’t any of Harry’s business. “I doubt you’re going to find any of this project front page news.”

“I’ll find a way,” Louis says, voice firm and tone determined. “I think news should make a difference, and that’s what I’m going to do this summer.”

“Alright,” Niall concedes, smiling in delight. “I’m here to help in any way I can.”

“If you need someone with a bit more skill, a little more professionalism,” Nick sneers at Harry, “I’m at your beck and call, Louis.”

Harry wants to protest, but his common sense brain is screaming at him to shut up. He didn’t even want to be on assignment with Louis. Let Nick have him!

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Louis says, ever the diplomat, but glances quickly to Harry and winks at him.

Damn Harry’s insides for betraying his logical brain. Damn his face for flushing a bright red that he can’t see but can feel right down to his belly button.

“Eat your supper before it gets cold,” Niall tells him with a knowing smile. Harry shoves his fork into his mouth forcefully. At least it will keep words from coming out.

  


Harry is back in his tiny boarding room once again with Liam perched on the end of his bed and Zayn staring out the window as if he was an aesthete. Harry and Liam are quietly flipping through their phones, sharing weird memes that they find on IG. Harry loves making Liam laugh, as it seems to transform his entire face when he finds something funny.

Zayn sighs loudly enough that there’s no question that he’s waiting for someone to ask him what’s on his mind.

“Out with it,” Liam demands with considerably less tact than Harry’s used to him having.

Zayn doesn’t seem to notice though, and sighs again. “I spent the day with Louis today.”

Harry snorts and Liam groans. “Did you do it?” Liam asks.

“No.” Zayn glares at Liam. “I told you that I’m taking it slow.”

“Taking what slow, exactly?” Harry hates himself for ever asking. He most definitely doesn’t want to know.

“My plan to seduce Louis, obviously.” Zayn gets this faraway look again, and Harry wants to gag. “He’s just so sweet and innocent. I don’t know if he would be able to handle it if I turned it on high all at once.”

“Mhm,” Liam quips. “I say leave him alone. I think if he was interested in you, he would have said it already.” Liam gives Harry a pointed look. Harry takes it as his cue to nod.

“Poor naive Liam. I think I know if someone’s interested in me. He just needs some time.” Zayn gives them both a sickly sweet smile and turns back to his moody pondering.

Liam just rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone. Harry does the same, but it leaves a seed of unease in his gut.

 

The next Monday Harry has one of his pictures on the front page of the Chronicle. He has to admit that it’s a bigger thrill than he thought it would be. He glances over at Louis, who’s reading his page three spread on the history of the Lloyd house. He has no reason to feel guilty for being proud of his picture. It’s not his fault that Liam wrote an article about the new Premier of PEI being descended from the famous King family of Avonlea. He feels honoured that Liam even asked him to join him in Charlottetown.

He looks at Louis again, just to confirm that his guilt is unfounded, but Louis is gone. Liam is standing in his place, smiling brightly. Harry turns the paper around and returns the grin. It probably calls for a celebration.

 

The next Saturday Harry photographs a family jamboree with Louis. The entire event is upbeat and jubilant. It’s hard not to smile at the elderly couple two-stepping around the hot pavement to the twangy sounds of a six string guitar. It isn’t exactly hard hitting news though, and Harry says as much to Louis.

“There’s a group of kids performing today, and it’s good advertisement for both the event and the kids’ music teacher. This stuff is the bread and butter of the Chronicle,” Louis explains to him as they weave through the slowly growing crowd. “This will be a great feel-good article.”

Harry looks in the direction that Louis is leading him, and sees four kids next to the large gazebo that someone has converted into a makeshift stage. They’re all dressed slightly better than you might see a group of pre-teens on a hot day like this. They wear matching nervous gazes as they clutch guitars in front of them, as though they are using them as shields. Louis approaches them with a wide smile and a wave. Harry stays behind, letting Louis do the talking.

“Hey guys, excited to get started?” They all nod their heads with vigor, but keep their mouths resolutely shut. “Is it alright if we take some pictures after you sing, so we can put them in the paper next week?” They all nod again, a little slower this time.

The smallest boy smiles. “Are we going to be famous?”

Harry chuckles at his eagerness. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Louis smiles at him as he takes out a well-worn notepad from his back pocket. “Now I just need to make sure all of your names are spelled right.” He turns toward Harry. “You can look around if you like. See what your best angle is and all that.”

And with that, Harry’s dismissed to fend for himself. So much for teamwork.

 

Harry doesn’t brood for long though, because he’s got his camera in his hand, free to take pictures of whatever catches his fancy. He loves people watching, seeing their faces light up over meeting with an old friend, or their quiet contemplation over a plate of hot fries. The little ones acting out an imaginary scene that has one giggling and one scowling deep. The nervous young musicians’ relief as they pull off an almost flawless performance. Harry almost forgot to take pictures of that, he was cheering and clapping so loud.

“Get everything you need?” Louis asks, showing his face for the first time since he had sent Harry on his way.

“I wouldn’t know, since you didn’t give me any idea as to what you planned to write,” Harry snips back at him. This only causes Louis to laugh, which is more infuriating than the disappearing act.

“I have faith in you,” Louis finally says before checking his phone. “H, I have to go, I told Niall I would stop in for supper.”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry sighs. Dismissed once more. Not that he should care. Not that he _does_ care.

“Do you want to come? Niall said he has plenty.” Louis gives him that face. That insufferable face that makes it seem as though Louis knows exactly what Harry is thinking. And he doesn’t. Louis knows nothing.

“Oh, yeah.” Harry tries his best to be casual. He could already have plans. Louis doesn’t have to know that he was just going to go back and eat a sandwich in his room. “I guess I could stop in for a bit.”

“Well, I’m driving right over if you want a lift.” Louis is openly smirking at him now.

“Sounds fine.” Harry wraps the camera back around his neck and follows like the sheep that he knows he is.

 

Harry is glad to see Niall again. He’s such a comforting presence under any circumstance. He hopes that he finds a boss in the real world that treats him as well as Niall Horan. He’s less glad when he sees that there’s a fourth dinner guest. Nick sits in one of the dining chairs, long legs stretched in front of him and phone in hand. Harry scowls at him before Nick notices their presence.

“Hey Louis.” The way Nick says Louis’ name makes shivers crawl down Harry’s back. He does take some comfort in the leer falling into a grimace when Nick lays eyes on Harry. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him,” Niall says in an overly cheerful voice before he adds under his breath, “More than I can say for you.”

“Hm.” Nick curls his lip and wrinkles his nose in distaste. “And what hard-hitting news have you been chasing today, Harry? Flowers in bloom? Did a bunny cross your path? Fruit Bowl on Table?”

“He was helping me take pictures of the kids at the Jubilee,” Louis replies for Harry, smile firmly in place, but eyes hard on Nick.

“Oh, well.” Nick flusters for just a moment. “Have to give the children something to do.”

“Yeah, my job,” Harry snaps, feeling a full on rage building inside him.

“Well, you look like you’ve walked through a hurricane. Have you ever met a hairbrush?”

Harry’s hands go to his hair as if on their own volition. He can feel the unruly mess lifting off his scalp and can picture the disaster going on above his head. Harry’s just about to get up and walk out the door before Niall enters and drops a platter of seafood on the table in front of Nick. It’s so loud it makes everyone stop talking and for Nick to jump.

“Nick, why don’t you tell me how you were productive today?”

Nick, easily distracted, immediately launches into a detailed summary of his very uneventful day while Harry sits silent, wishing that Louis would stop staring at him.

 

It’s past dark when  Harry gets back to the boarding house. He guesses that it’s at least eleven, and the house is mostly empty and dark. He doesn’t know where Liam and Zayn are this time of day, but he isn’t that interested in finding out, either.

He walks into his room and sits heavily on the small bench in front of a wooden vanity. He looks into the mirror and cringes. The humidity of the day has his hair coiling in every direction taking on a life of its own. He hates it. He hates it almost as much as having it short. Short is worse. He’s stuck between two very ugly places. If only it wasn’t so wild. He wishes there was a way to tame it, force it into submission. He puts his hands to the top of his head and pushes it down close to his scalp. He fiddles with it a little with his fingers, and with the help of his hands holding things into place, he creates his ideal hair shape. He looks in the mirror for a while just like that, admiring the way things could be before he lets go and watches his hair go poof around his ears once again.

He knows that there has to be an answer, and he bets he knows where he can find it.

 

When Harry wakes up the next morning it’s to his phone blaring Dancing In The Dark. _Shit, that’s Niall_ , he thinks, as he pats his bed looking for his phone. What he finds first is a bottle of leave in-conditioner and the cord to a hair straightener. He groans as he remembers the almost maniacal mess he made the night before.

He eventually finds his phone on the nightstand and answers quickly before Niall hangs up.

“‘Lo?” He tries to sound more alert than he is. He feels almost hungover.

“Are you going to be here soon?” Niall asks, bypassing pleasantries entirely.

“Be where?”

“The staff meeting that started almost ten minutes ago?” Niall isn’t one to get overly excited about anything, but Harry can hear the tone in his voice just as he remembers telling Niall the night before that he would see him bright and early the next morning. That was before the hair incident.

“I’m just walking out the door,” Harry lies as he jumps out of bed, reaching for the first thing that looks like a pair of jeans.

“It takes ten minutes to walk from your front door to the front door of this office,” Niall reminds Harry with a parently tone. “I’ll give you fifteen.”

“Thanks Niall,” Harry mumbles as he throws a clean t-shirt over his head. He hangs up and grabs for his shoes. When he bends down he catches a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror.

“Shit!” he shrieks. His hair! It’s lying limp on his forehead, being coaxed into submission by hair products and a hot iron,, though not in any type of style. He looks like he’s got a bad toupe on his head...backwards. “Shit,” he says again under his breath. He doesn’t have time to wash the shit out of his hair. He looks around his room frantically as though it holds the answers.

The first thing his eyes land on is an old blue bandana tied to his suitcase handle. He unknots it and ties it in a circle, pushing it down over the crown of his head, hiding the worst of it. The tips of his hair show a little bit of life and curl loosely at the ends, but it’ll have to do until he can get back to the boarding house and it’s dodgy shower.

 

He runs to the paper, sweat be damned. When he rounds the corner there are five pairs of eyes on him varying between amused and annoyed. Louis just stares from the back of the crowd, an intense glare that Harry has a hard time breaking away from.

“Nice of you to join us,” Niall says, ushering everyone inside.

“Are you joining Guns & Roses when you leave here?” Nick comments behind him with a snicker.

“Fucking hilarious,” Harry mutters and keeps walking. He just needs to get through the next hour and then he can wallow in his own misery for the rest of the day.

 

The meeting lasts two hours, mostly thanks to Nick talking about himself. Harry has himself huddled in a corner closest to the door. He’s not staying a second longer than he has to.

Niall brings his hands together in a soft clap. It’s time to go. Harry stands up and opens the door as inconspicuously as possible. The minute he hears the words “See you tomorrow,” he’s gone.

“Harry?”

Shit shit shit. He whirls around and sees Louis, still giving him the weird stare down, but walking towards him purposefully.

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry forces his hands into his jean pockets so he doesn’t start fiddling with his hair.

“Um.,” Louis stops and clears his throat. Harry can see a slight tinge colour his cheeks. Weird. “I was wondering if you had any of those pictures from the jamboree ready for me to see?”

“Oh, uh…” He does not. That is most definitely what he should have been doing last night instead of mangling his hair. “I may have a couple… I could email you.”

“Or I could come and see them with you...now...at your place?”

A quick image of the state of his room flashes in his mind. “You could…” hHe says reluctantly.

“Great, lets go!” Louis starts walking towards the boarding house. Shit.

 

Harry works fast, moving everything in his path into a corner or under a blanket. Louis appears to not even notice the disaster that’s unfolded around him. He spots the open laptop on the desk and moves in its direction.

“So I got...distracted last night and didn’t do as much with these as I would have liked,” Harry tells Louis as he opens a file with yesterday’s pictures. “But I think I have lots to work with.” Harry clicks to enlarge a picture of the performing children for Louis to inspect. He cringes as he spots all the tiny details that he’s going to have to work on before it makes it to the paper.

Louis performs the mortal sin of clicking through the pictures. Harry had taken a lot of pictures that day, mostly out of boredom, and he may have gotten a little carried away.

“Harry,” Louis says, sounding astonished.

“I know, I was just...fooling around, sorry. I did get what you asked for though.” Harry feels an inexplicable flare of guilt.

“What? No, these pictures. They’re beautiful.” Louis says in awe.

Harry hates how much it pleases him to be praised. So predictable. “They’re just pictures.” Harry tries to tone down the smile creeping up around the edges of his mouth. “Silly, really.”

“Are you kidding me? You are so talented. You should be in museums and art galleries.” Louis continues his inspection of the photographs, leaning in close to the computer to see more details of each image.

“Nonsense. I’m not even supposed to be here.” Harry intends it as a throwaway statement to deal with the discomfort of the compliments, but it stings somewhere deep in his chest when he says it out loud.

“This internship doesn’t deserve this talent. Niall’s lucky to have you.” Louis’ face turns dark for a second. “I bet he’s not thinking the same thing about me.”

“What?” Harry sits on the bed with a thunk as though Louis’ words alone cut him at the knees. “You’re wonderful!” Louis looks up at him, surprised, and Harry finds his tongue choking himself a tiny bit. “You’re a good writer.”

“Not good enough.” Louis leans back in the chair, looking defeated. “My house project is bombing.”

“Well.” Harry’s mind clams up with anything brilliant to help. “You could do something else.”

“I could,” Louis agrees, smiling sadly at Harry. “But that wouldn’t help the house. Or the community. It’s not about front page spreads, but it sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks out the window at the sun starting to rise to its highest point in the sky. It’s almost noon and Harry feels tired, as if he’s already had a long day. He looks back to Louis who is still staring at his pictures, but with a small frown on his lips. That’s when he decides what he can do, for himself and Louis.

  


_Do you trust me?_

 

Harry texts Louis early the next morning, so early that the sun is barely up. He guesses he shouldn’t expect a reply anytime soon.

Yeah

 

Louis texts back within minutes, which leaves Harry with a few more questions than he’d like to admit.

_Don’t write an article about the house until I tell you_

Can I ask why?

_Not yet, but I can tell you that once I let you know, you’ll have no problem writing it_

Okay Harry, I trust you

 

Ok good, Harry thinks to himself as he looks at the freshly painted easel in front of him.

 

The next week, Louis sits in the office of the Chronicle with a newspaper and a huge smile. A picture of Harry’s oil painting of the Lloyd house in it’s prime had gone for over ten thousand dollars at a charity event that Harry had called in a few favours to be involved in. His old professor Jack has a finger on the pulse of the art community, and got the proceeds of the painting donated back to the house itself with the stipulation that the money be used to restore and maintain it.

Harry had worked day and night for four days. He didn’t actually think it would work. It’s amazing what happens when you just ask people for help sometimes.

When he gave Louis all of the information, he protested at first, but wrote the article because that was his job, and whether he wanted the help or not, the work had been done. Not much for Louis to protest anymore.

 

“Congrats on front page,” Harry says, trying to sound casual as he picks up his own copy of the newspaper that he’s slowly coming to love.

“I should be saying that to you,” Louis replies with a wry smile.

Harry just shrugs and adjusts his bandana. He’s found that he doesn’t hate the looks of it, and it’s making his self-consciousness, not to mention the time spent on his morning routine, significantly diminished. “You’re not expected to make the news Lou, you just have to report it. And this time I made it, and you wrote it and you did an awesome job.”

Louis stops his smirking for once in his life and stands up, coming toward Harry. “You really think so?” His eyes sparkle and Harry realises how easily he could get lost in them.

“Yeah, I really do,” he says, finding his voice no louder than a whisper. He feels like something is happening, or is about to. It’s like a rain cloud has rumbled into the door, energising the room and clouding reality. Harry holds his breath as Louis raises both hands, making an inviting space for Harry to step into.

Then Louis pats him on the arm and smiles brightly, platonically. “Thanks H, that means a lot to me.”

“Oh.” Harry’s almost physically thrown off guard for a second from the change in atmosphere. “No problem, bud.” The words feel foreign in his mouth as he watches Louis saunter out of the room, a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.

 

Harry walks into the small sitting room of Green Gables to find Liam in an armchair reading. An actual book. He’s got his left ankle resting on his right thigh and a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. Harry has a brief realisation that he has found his person.

“Liam, you don’t happen to enjoy the occasional cocktail do you?” Harry perches in the chair matching Liam’s and sighs heavily.

“Actually,” Liam stands and moves towards the kitchen, “I have a bit of a treat for you.”

Harry feels some sort of way about sitting in the dimly lit sitting room of this century old house, sipping on raspberry cordial with his new best friend. He knows that Liam is his new best friend because they have told each other several times in the last couple of hours. Zayn had walked in, taken one look at the two of them and walked out again, which is fine with Harry. More for him.

Liam told Harry when he popped the top of the dark green bottle that it was a bit of a summer tradition around there. A kind old lady had given Liam half a dozen bottles for writing an article about the five generations living in Avonlea with the birth of her great-great-granddaughter. Harry might send her a thank you note tomorrow.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” Harry says to Liam, who is opening the third bottle of cordial.

“Louis Tomlinson?”

“Louis Tomlinson!” Harry just about spills his drink on the chair, so he pulls his arms back into his sides again. “He’s just, and then he just, and I just… know what I mean?”

“Totally.” Liam’s head is lolling against the back of the chair, eyes half closed and smiling lazily.

“I love you Liam, you’re my person. My favourite person.”

“I really am. Louis doesn’t even know.”

“He doesn’t even know,” Harry agrees, loving how brilliant his brain is. “I should tell him.” he pulls his phone, which is at a sad three percent, out of his pocket.

“I don’t know H, drunk texting is a best friend no no.” Liam makes a valiant but sloth-like effort to grab for Harry’s phone, but misses and nearly falls off the chair. This is actually hilarious and they both laugh until tears are running down their faces.

“Well for one, I am not texting him, I’m calling him. For two. I’m not drunk,” Harry reasons.

“Oh.” Liam stops and considers. “Carry on, then.”

Harry has already dialled the number, he’s on top of his game. “Louis? You don’t even know.”

 

Harry and Liam’s banter has come to a dull roar as they move their party of two to the front porch. It’s not fully dark but getting there; they can just see the last sliver of sunset over the horizon. The fresh air has helped the haziness of drink, but Harry still feels pleasantly buzzed.

“Harry, are we about to get burgled?” Liam asks with the enthusiasm of a sloth.

Harry looks at him, not lifting his head from the back of the old rocking chair. “Hm?”

“Someone just came through the woods. I hope they don’t plan to ravish me.”

Harry snickers and squints towards the stand of trees. There is indeed someone walking out of the shadows towards them. “Oh, that’s just Louis,” he says, closing his eyes once again before his stomach does a little barrel roll. Louis. The brief and disjointed phone conversation comes hurtling to the forefront of his mind. His instinct is to bolt, run to his room and lock the door. But it’s too late. His mind is running as quickly as cold molasses, and Louis has already made eye contact.

“Did I miss the party?” Louis asks once he’s close enough.

Liam gives Louis a lazy grin. “Nah man, we’re just getting started.”

“There’s no party,” Harry says, nipping this little banter firmly in the bud. His previous phone conversation is roiling in his head like a storm. “Can we help you with anything?”

If Harry knew any better, he would think that what he sees in Louis’ face is hurt. Which is rich, since he is certain that Louis had just come here to mock him.

Nerves quickly turn to anger when Louis replies. “Just thought we could hang out, bud.” Louis shrugs and smiles, though it doesn’t transform his face like his normal casual smirk usually does. Bud. I’ll fucking bud him.

“I’m not sure what gave you that idea.” Harry stands up, working really hard to keep his limbs all moving in fluid motions. “Bud.” He punches the word in Louis’ direction before he walks back into the house, not even looking back when he hears Liam call his name.

 

Not thinking about Louis is apparently a full time job. Harry hasn’t seen him since the week before on the front porch of Green Gables. Not that he’s keeping track, but this is a very small town. Harry doesn’t think that he has spent one day in Avonlea since Louis had arrived that he didn’t see Louis at least once, in passing at the very least. But in the last week, not so much as a whisper.

Which is fine, everything is fine. Harry didn’t ever want to be part of Louis’ life. This is what he has wanted since they met. He can actually focus on his work, his job. This is what they both wanted.

“Earth to Harry.” Liam breaks him from his thoughts. It literally makes Harry jolt. God, how long has he been thinking about Louis this time?

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Harry looks with trepidation at the small wooden rowboat on the edge of the small pond that the locals lovingly call the Lake of Shining Waters.

Liam seems dubious, but he holds the end of the boat anyway and lets Harry step in with his camera. “Alright, so you’ve looked closely at the pictures I sent you, right? This is a rare sighting for the white wing dove and getting a photo will be an amazing addition to the article.”

“Yes, Liam, I studied the pictures extensively.” He did, of course, but honestly, to Harry it looks just like a dusty pigeon. But he’s trying not to judge.

“Great, start paddling that way.” Liam points vaguely to his left and shoves the boat into the water. Harry rolls his eyes but begins to row the wooden oar .

It takes all of three minutes before Harry’s mind starts to wander again. It’s not that he and Louis were even close, but is Louis actively trying to avoid him? Did the phone call cross a line? Louis called him “bud.” Everyone knows what that means. It means that Louis isn’t interested. Which of course is a good thing, since Harry isn’t interested either. Not at all. He takes a cursory glance at the horizon. No birds yet. He’s nearly in the middle of the pond though, so he makes a few paddles to get himself a little closer.

He sighs and throws the paddle back into center of the boat and only notices something is wrong when water splashes back at him. The entire bottom of the boat has a thin layer of it that was definitely not there before.

“Liam!” he yells towards the small dock, where Liam waves jovially. “Liam, I’m sinking!”

“What?” Liam asks, but the panic in his voice tells Harry that he heard him the first time.

“I’m coming back!” Harry picks up the paddle and sees that the water isn’t a thin layer anymore. There’s water pooling actively into the boat from a crack in the wood near his foot.  
He looks at the dock and realises he’s not going to make it. “How deep is this pond?”

Liam just shrugs, and Harry starts to panic. He can swim, of course, but his camera costs almost two thousand dollars and he’s not about to watch it sink to the bottom of anything.

He gives a brief look around and decides to try to move to the closest shore. It’s got a steep bank and Harry doesn’t even think he could climb it, but it’s dry land. He wraps his camera strap around his neck a second time so that it sits just under his chin, and grabs the paddles.

He feels like he rows for days, but it’s only minutes before his feet are covered in water. The boat tips precariously to the side. Harry can feel himself leaning to keep himself level. He takes a look back towards the shore. He doesn’t even feel like he’s closer. Shit. He keeps paddling until the edge of the boat dips under the water and he has to stand up to keep his upper half above water. He’s at least six feet from shore. He can’t see the bottom of the pond, and, has no way to gauge what he might be jumping into, but he has no choice. He’s going down one way or another.

“Harry, take my hand.” Louis’ voice makes Harry’s head snap up. Where the hell did he come from?

“I’m too far away!” Harry feels frozen in the spot, although in reality he’s definitely moving, moving down, sadly.

“Come to the bow of the boat, and reach your hand out!” Louis says, standing precariously on the steep shore.

Harry moves cautiously to what he assumes is the bow. It’s the part that’s closest to Louis and also above water. He stands on it, close enough now to touch Louis, just like he said he would be. Louis reaches even farther trying to reach for Harry’s hand, but Harry hesitates.

“Come on H, just let me help, please,” Louis pleads, the rare sadness back in his eyes.

Harry wants to reach out, but he has another idea. He unwraps his camera and instead of offering his hand, Harry passes Louis the camera. Louis shakes his head but takes it by the strap just as the boat goes fully under water, throwing Harry off balance and fully drenching him in cold, earthy smelling water. He was right in his caution. The pond is deep, but it’s hot outside, and after the adrenaline of the last few minutes, it’s far from unwelcoming. He comes back up to the surface and only has to swim a pace or two before his feet feel solid ground and he’s able to crawl up the bank.

Louis sits on a small boulder a few feet away, waiting with Harry’s camera in his hands. Harry stays in place, realising suddenly that he’s gasping for air.

“Thanks,” Harry says, pointing to his camera.

Louis just snorts and holds it out for Harry to take, but Harry doesn’t, with nothing to dry his hands. “It was nothing, literally.”

“You saved me a couple grand.”

Louis looks up at him, sulky but bashful. “I wanted to save you.”

Harry’s heart skips, betraying everything he has been trying to tell it for the better part of the month. “Why?” Harry asks the question that has been running through his mind for weeks as well.

“Are you serious?” Louis stands up, not an easy feat given their location, but Louis makes it look easy, as he does with everything. “Since the minute I saw you I have been trying to…prove myself to you.”

“What?” Harry’s brain can’t match the words that are coming out of Louis’ mouth with what he has known since they met. Louis mocks him, smirks at him, calls him names. Louis is cool and laid back and Harry is all of the things that Louis isn’t.

“Since the day I saw those curls, all I’ve wanted to do is have you smile at me like you do Liam, or tease me like you do Nick. I want to talk academics like you do with Niall. I just wanted you to see me.”

“You...you made fun of me.” Harry allows himself to smooth down the hair around his temples. It’s in a scarf today, a pretty green one that Zayn had given him from a shopping trip in Charlottetown.

“About your hair? The curls?” Louis steps forward and slowly, as though approaching a wild animal, touches the locks that Harry had just tried to hide away. “I fell in love with them. I thought they were sweet and lovely. And now in those scarves...” Louis pauses and his face goes red. “Pardon me for saying it, but the first time I saw you wearing one of these I was actually speechless. It took every ounce of concentration to not kiss you right there in front of the newspaper office.”

“You’re constantly smirking at me!” Harry can’t fully understand how he is still talking. Louis isn’t touching him anymore but he’s close, so close.

“I’m sorry!” Louis covers his face with his hands. “I realise how my face does stupid things when you’re around. I just smile when I see your face. And it’s worse when you’re actually talking to me.” He spreads his fingers and smirks, no, smiles at Harry. “I’m embarrassing I know.”

“I...don’t know what to say. I thought…”

“Yeah, I think I know what you thought.” Louis looks disappointed. Harry wants to deny it, to take the sad look away, but he can’t. He’s been working for over a month to keep a distance from this man. No sense in pretending it never happened.

“Can I ask you for something? For a favour?” Louis asks. Harry nods, not being able to do much else. “Can we be friends now? Can you care about me like you do Liam, or Niall? Or even Nick?”

“Nick?!” Harry scrunches his nose, causing Louis to laugh.

“You might think you don’t like Nick, but at least you give him your attention.”

“I give you attention.”

“Well, call me spoiled, but I want more.” Louis reaches out again, this time with slightly more confidence, and touches Harry’s hand. “I want all of your attention.” He looks up at Harry. “Can I?”

Louis isn’t clear in what he’s asking for, but Harry finds himself nodding anyway. Whatever it is, Harry is willing to concede. This is all it takes for Louis to lean in and place a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. A wave of tension and uncertainty drains instantly from Harry’s body as he leans into the warmth of Louis’ lips.

“I’ve wasted half of my summer trying to tell myself I didn’t want this,” Harry says against Louis’ cheek.

“It’s alright,” Louis murmurs as he nuzzles his nose against Harry’s.. “Makes for a great story.”


End file.
